October 14, 1999

Nathan McIntyre hadn't been an angry man in his childhood. Helpful, cheerful, extremely intelligent, he had made it his mission to help those who had need for it, especially his friends. Attempting to help Thomas had changed both his life and his perspective, crippling him and giving him a new, sardonic outlook on life that had made him almost as bad as those whom he had hated.

Fortunately, he had seen just in time to recover, and had rededicated himself to his old ideals, even if he'd take things with a grain of salt from now on.

But he wasn't taking the phone conversation he was having with that. He was serious, compassionate and desperately wanted to help out. After all, Jeremy Storm was one of his oldest friends, and it pained him to see the unfolding drama in his life.

"Jer, come on now." he exclaimed as his friend recounted the situation "You told me you had forgiven her the indiscretion, so why the long face I'm feelin'?"

A slightly strained sigh on the other side. "I did...forgive...but...I was rather curt about it. I know she understood but...I could see and feel it hurt."

There was a slight quaver to his friend's voice, and Nathan pondered his answer carefully. Deep down, Jeremy had always been a very sentimental man, no matter how tough he was or how good his skills in fighting were. When he hurt someone he cared about, he usually agonized over it for quite a long length of time, the level of personal pain depending on how much he cared for the individual. And since he loved Cammy more than he loved anyone else, this called for a bit of diplomacy.

He coughed, hoping he wouldn't mess up on this. "Err...okay. Jer, I think your wife is intelligent enough to see when you're not really angry." he clamped his mouth shut as the last words escaped his mouth, wanting to bash his head into the wall. Idiot, idiot, idiot! he thought ragefully. He couldn't have put it worse!

Obviously, Jeremy felt that way, for his tone went from sad to irritated. "Of course she's bright enough, dammit! I know that, for God's sake! What are you trying to pull here, Nate?!?" the way he said it bode nothing good, and Nathan rushed to cover his slip.

"Jer, that came out wrong, sorry, but my point still stands: stop worrying yourself over it!" he stated in earnest "Cammy loves you so much, and YOU love her so much. Don't tell me you're going to let it all go down cuz you hit a lump on the road!" Well, most couples don't let it, he thought silently as he said this.

He wondered if he was getting through. Jeremy was many good things - courageous, gentle, bright - but he was also notoriously single-minded, even egocentric, when it came to personal problems. When he decided he needed to be miserable, he was so, and woe to anyone who tried to tell him to do otherwise. He couldn't help but sigh softly as the silence lengthened on the other side of the phone line.

At length Jeremy spoke again, calmly, slowly. "I...I know you're right. I know we'll pull it through in the end. After all, we both want the child now. Its just that, well, I feel like @#%$ anyway right now, no matter how cheerful I try to be."

Nathan gave an exasperated huff. "Jer, you're one of the best men I've ever met, you know that. But sometimes...sometimes...you act so stupidly you make my head ache, and not because I'm drunk, either!"

A soft, sad chuckle after this. "Tell me something I don't know, Nate!"

The conversation shifted to happier news and gossip after that, but both men could feel that it was only empty excuses not to break the contact on too depressive a note. At length, the inanities stopped, and both friends said goodbye to each other, the matter still unsettled. Nathan felt quite a shade more depressed now than he had before this discussion. He looked outside, at the bright sun which shone through the cold autumn day in Greenway, and wondered what he might do.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took a soft tap on his shoulder to bring him out of it. He looked to find Area looking down at him, slightly concerned. As it was early, she still looked sleepy and dishelved, her nightgown somewhat haphazard, her blond hair tangled up down her back and on her shoulders. Yet, he couldn't help but smile fondly, for anyway she looked to others, Area always looked like an enchanting vision to him. The adage 'love is blind' was quite true, but not altogether a bad thing.

Especially in his case.

Why did Area choose to stick to him when he was a bitter, crippled man, he couldn't fathom, nor had he ever asked, but he was gald of it. He had been a constant grouch, nagging and rude until she had had enough, ingniting her own anger and nearly walking out of his life. She believed him when he said he'd get help for himself, where other women would certainly have left him to soak on self-imposed despair. When he'd come back from Dhalsim, he really worked to better himself, and had gradually succeeded. He smiled frequently now, his voice was less harsh then before.

She had seen it all. Could have left anyway. But she had stayed, enchanting his parents with her lively presence. She had brought their relationship up when he despaired it was all over between them.

She had been the one to decide they would make love.

He would always remember it. How, one night, she had slipped under the cover of his bed next to him, nearly startling him out of ten years of his life, and had stated that she wanted him, and that she knew it was mutual, so why not stop all that stupid stalling and just get on in doing what was to be? And he, hardly believing what was happening, let it all go and made love to her, the first time he'd held a woman that way. He owed her so much.

He loved her so much.

And he loved her even more when, in a slightly sleepy voice, she asked him "What's wrong, Nate? You look down all of a sudden."

She had always been perceptive, and all he could do was to sigh in answer. "Jer and Cammy have got problems."

A slender eyebrow was raised. "Problem?"

He gestured gently. "She's pregnant."

She seemed to digest this for a moment, before clapping her hands softly, her face raidiant. "Wow! Thats really good news."

He shook his head. "Not that much. She hid it from him and he got into an argument with her. It went well in the end, and I think the tensions'll settle down, but you know how Jer can be!" he shrugged as she frowned. "As for being concerned, I'm not really, not that much. I just want to help make things better faster."

Silence fell for many moments, as both pondered the problem, both with serious, withdrawn faces. Nathan frankly couldn't see a way to really help out, and was about to call attention on something else, when Area lowered her face next to his, smiling a very charming smile which made him blink.

"Its easy, then." she said "The four of us being in sabbaticals from school, let get Claudia and Alex and pay him a visit!"

He reflected on this, had it on the tip of his tongue to dismiss the idea as ludicrous, then stopped and considered the plan in more detail. Yes, it would be easy to convince the others to come - Claudia had always said she wanted to visit a part of Europe anyway - and he had enough money to easily cover the expenses. He shook his head, wondering how this could have escaped him, then smiled back at Area and, quickly, pulled the quasi World Warrior in a tight embrace, kissing her deeply. She returned it eagerly, then smiled as they broke it.

"Admit it, I'm a genius!" she said, with a wink.

He nodded, laughing. "You sure are! And now, it think its about time I gave the genius here some kind of reward!"

She grinned. "And what might that be?" she asked, although it was clear what he meant, as they'd just been in such rewarding experiences an hour or so before.

He took her in his arms again, this time very fondly, feeling the soft curves of her body against him, her warmth and love invading him. How he loved this woman. How sad that a friend was feeling blue because of that very love.

Yup, it was decided!

Next stop, London!

Around the same time...

Chunli narrowly dodged another attack, stepping back by three steps, before lunging forward with a quick, devastating kick. In front of her, Vega saw it coming, and brough his forearms together to block it, thrusting at the same time, making her stumble for amoment. The moment was costly. as her defense opened for a moment, allowinmg his eager fist to deliver a solid punch into her abdomen. Her muscles were tense at that moment, which saved her from the worst of it, but it still connected squarelky, cutting her breath.

Now was not the time to tarry, as his present advantage could be used to violent and possibly terminal effect. Forgetting the pain she was feeling, immersing herself into her years of training and tapping into her chi flow, Chunli sidestepped, shifted, and side kicked directly for his exposed ribs. As she surmised, he saw the shot coming from a mile off, and caught her leg firmly, the momentum forcing his arm to tense on the limb, holding it far more tightly that he should.

She didn't let him register the mistake, ignoring the pain and bringing her free foot up, sending it ramming into his face. The position was so awkward that the kick nearly had no strength, but the thrust to such a fragile idea still to its toll. He grunted loudly, leting her go and flipping back three times, coming to his feet at the same moment as she scrambled to hers, resuming and tightening her defense, tapping into her chi.

A loud, elated chuckle burst forth from behind the silvery, metallic mask. "Senorita! I'm glad to see you're just as strong as before! This is good, it will make it all the more worthwhile!"

He attacked again, as the bums circling around cheered for him, launching into the air and coming down right at her, his legs ready to stomp her into the ground.

She sidestepped as he came down, readying her chi in a fashion which nearly showed the anger and distress she was feeling. This fight was too quick for projectiles, but if he just gave her a moment, she would unleash her close-range attacks. This appeared to be the moment she'd been waiting for, and she readied herself.

She didn't get her chance. He had been watching her just as she'd shifted away quickly, and the very moment that his feet hit the ground, his right foot lashed out and caught her on the knee, hurting the leg only sliughtly but ruining her chance. She exchanged a few punches, backslashes and quick, short-range kicks withher enemy, letting her anger at him, at discovering Vega had actually killed her father, take control of her, lending her strength, but not missing the fact the assassin hadn't used his claws much, only using them when she got too close and he really needed them.

What it could mean was varied and generally not to her liking, but she was in trouble enough as it was without letting such unhappy thoughts bog her down even more. She concentrated her chi into her hands and rammed them both into him, making him step back. During that small lull, she considered the situation.

Vega had grown high indeed since the last battle. Then, he had already been fast and deadly, but also had been taken with the intention of slicing her open as much as he could get it. He wasdifferent now. Less bloodlust, more focus. He didn't rush in as much, didn't start boasting. More than that, his strength and speed had increased tremendously, so that her usual edge was reduced to nearly zero in that field.

There was no way around it: this was BAD.

She knew, however, that she could in no way think of staying on this defensive game: the only sure way she could escape Vega and the band surrounding her was to attack as aggressively as she possibly could. She focused herself, gathering her strength, doing her best to forget the weakened shoulder, fist and leg which remained a serious handicap, and, with a yell, returned into the fight with renewed vigor.

"Come on, Vega! Come and take this!" she said as she came at him with a speed wich would have awed many a professional sprinter. The assassin himself seemed to be taken aback for a moment, and she crashed into him during that time of confusion.

She kneed him in the guts, following up by a palm shot to the throat which he couldn't stop. He coughed for a moment, then reeled back as she managed to unleash her Lightning Kick into him. He reacted faster than she had thought possible, but a few kicks had told their story, judging form the sluggish way he held himself. No wasting time, digging into her energies, forcing them to coalesce in a way which certainly wasn't safe or wise, she shot into the hair, aiming a kick to his face.

He stopped her with bopth hands, but she had known he would, and used her chi to reverse the momnetum, summersaulting backward aggressively and catching him below the chin with her other feet. She landed on her hands, backflipped as he was thrust many feet up and away. She concentrated, used her chi, forced it to gather outside her palms, forming a blue-white sphere of power. As he landed hard, she it formed, at least a two feet in diameter. The assassin struggled to his feet. It was time.

"KIKOSHOU!!!!"

The ball of chi streak amongst the gasp and yells of the bums surrounding the wide fighting circle. Vega raised his clawed fist, swung it, back, a reddish glow appearing around his clenched hand. As the ball of chi neared, he swung it towards it, with a great yell. The was an explosion as differing chi connected, which shook the ground and made more than one grunt stumble. Chunli held her ground, knowing that she couldn't allow herself to be distracted in this possibly crucial moment.

The cloud of dust cleared.

She didn't gasp, or show any sign of her surprise and distress at what she saw, but she felt those emotions nonethless as the image made itself clear.

Vega was still up, his clawed hand hand arm in fron of him, trembling greatly from the strin he'd put it into. His chest heaved with tiredness, but there was a note of triumph in it all, a sense of exaltation she didn't fail to recognize.

"Marvelous!" he gasped "Simply marvelous!!! The ecstacy of the fight, the boiling of my blood...it unmistakable. You are a true woman a senorita of strength!!!" he then howled with laughter. "IT WILL BE THAT MUCH INVIGORATING TO GET MY REVENGE ON YOU!!!"

With that, he charged again, not as quickly as before, the strain showing in the way his legs moved and shifted. But Chun-Li herself couldn't do much now in the way of a defense. The Kikoshou had drained her, and the pain from her shoulder and leg was getting so high she couldn't ignore it anymore. She was almost helpless as he pounced on her.

He kicked at her, sending her crashing to the side, hitting her on the back before she could put up anymore of a fight. She barely got the leverage necessary to sweep his feet from under him, something he saw and managed to evade, but it gave her time to scramble back to her feet and deliver a sound kick to his ribcage, he grunted in pain for a moment, but regained control, the eyes behind the mask flashing. He punched her away soundly, his fist hitting her mouth with violence, filling it with the coppery, salty taste of blood. She spat it away, dodging him again and again, finally bringing herself together by fighting him off a few moment, scrambling backward, nearly into the line of thugs, who weren't cheering anymore, awed as they were.

She jumped as high as she could, deciding that aerial attacks were probably her only chance, focusing her energies into her limbs as she prepared to ram into him and give him everything she could muster. He looked at her jump, and gathered more chi than she thought him capable of doing, sweeping back his arm as a reddish glow, greater than the one he had used previously, gathered around his claws. He swept them directly towards her.

"RED SLASH!"

Three lines of red chi slammed into her shattering her concentration and engulfing her in pain. She screamed, then oofed as she hit the ground, hard. Her nervous system wasn't reponding to the demands of her mind, her lungs burned her, her muscles groaned, the energy gathered drifting away. She managed to get herself up on her elbows, gritting her teeth, her now-weak eyes glaring at Vega with hatred and anger. Not fear. Never would she show fear to THAT bastard!

He looked down at her, panting. "Marvelous fight, senorita! I'm going to enjoy having our later talks together."

"Go to hell, Vega, you @#%$ monster!" she shouted with her last strength, afraid beyond measure by what he might mean by 'later talks' She only felt amusement from him, however.

"Don't worry, senorita." he said nastily "I promise you you won't be bored with me."

And something hit her then, and, cursing, she tried to keep counscious, refusing to break, to give in. It was to no avail. The blackness overcame her.

Her last thought was tearful, agonized. "Father...forgive me...I couldn't...avenge you..." she whispered to him in her own mind.

And then she knew nothing more.

Two days later...

"Retinal scan confirmed. Infrared detection confirmed. Brainwaves confirmed. Match is one hundred percent. Welcome Commander Redbarrow."

The sweet, mechanical femal voice uttered from micro-electronic speaker on top of the great metal doors which were the main entrance to Compound Seventeen, White Arms' most secured and technologically advanced laboratories and testing grounds. The compound was garded by high-degree magnetic shields, concealed high-power lasers and over five hundred of the most dedicated WA soldiers. It was a forteress which was second only to the main White Arms Command Base. If the scan hadn't confirmed the Commander's identity, he would have been pulverized by the six lasers guarding the very door.

But this never entered even the backlist of Joshua Redbarrow's concerns. He had other fish to fry - far bigger fish - and couldn't let something as insignificatn as the possibility of death enter his field of conscience. He had flirted with death far too often for that, had dealt death too often to care.

The door hissed open on a well-oiled, perfectly synchronized mangnetic system, letting him, and his small escort enter the vast laboratories. He walked ahead of everyone, walking down great lighted hallways, descending flights of stairs with a gait and a sense of purpose which - like most other features of his body - belied his very mature age.

At fifty-eight, Joshua had a very well-toned body which fit well into the white and gold uniform of White Arms Commander-in-Chief. His face was squarish and handsomke in an indifferent sort of way, with a face which showed no more lines than a man of later thirties. Only his hair - more white than grey - reminded everyone that he wasn't a young man anymore. But it didn't change the fact that men quickly stepped out of his way, and that everywhere he went, whomever he was with, there was ever these two emotions: respect and fear. The building blocks which made a good commander and good underlings.

After walking through many doors, halls and three more checkpoints, his little group entered a place which resembled a metro, except the vehicle which they were to use looked more like a very spacious limousine, if it were not for the fact that the entire top was of bullet-proof glass, that the vehicle was extremely streamlined and, most importantly, that it had no wheels.

This was a Maglev, a unit of magnetic, high-tech transportation which would be unavailable to the world for many years to come still, but useful in linking both the exterior and the interior of the underground White Arms facilities and bases. The commander stepped inside the vehicle, followed only by his two sub-commanders. The soldiers stayed behind. Others would take their place at the destination.

With barely a noise they were off, floating on a magnetic field created by the repulsing forces of two magnets - the metallic 'road' and the electrified metal plate installed below them. Truly a feat of human engineering.

Not that he cared, as he stared with a commanding stare at his two best and brightest lieutenants. Sub-Commander Hartcourt returned the stare respectfully and evenly, not allowing himself to show any bit of unease, while Sub-Commander Harreta, her coppery curls twirling slightly about her shoulder, shifted slightly under his continued gaze. But she did not back down either. These two were soldiers, and had seen and done worse than the grave stare of the White Arms Commander.

He didn't waste his time or their with pleasantries, preffering to go right to the point and get the situation in hand. "How are the protocols going along?" he asked, his tone rough.

"Less than three percent behind schedule, well within satisfactory margins." Harreta said with a surprisingly strong voice for her small size. "We should be ready to enter phase two as soon as the first sample is collected."

RedBarrow considered this with a certain degree of satisfaction. He had counted on the facilities being ready come three days, but that had been without counting on the remarquable way the lady in front of him conducted operations. Not the best at field operations, she was an extraordinary organizer. He was intensely pleased. But of course he didn't show it, only nodding gravely before turning to Hartcourt, who had watched the exchange with a clear, interested face.

"And you, Harcourt? The first sample was to be obtained by the White Guns, a unit under your command."

"I realize that, sir." he answered respectfully in a stiff way which recalled the other two occupants that the man had indeed been a Delta Force soldier, and a very good one at that. "I however have utter confidence in Jacob's ability, as well as to the abilities of the rest of the Guns to accomplish this mission. It should be easy for them, since we pinpointed her thanks to the unwitting help of our soon-to-be pawn. I should hear from them very soon."

As if on cue, the cell phone the man always carried on him beeped loudly, resounding inside the glass windows and roof. He took it out quickly with a slightly pained look, opened it and stiffly responded. There ensued a brief conversation which someone else, conversation to which Redbarrow attentively listened to. He didn't consider it eavesdropping, but wanted to know what could be occupying his lieutenant's attention - and brightning his mood in the bargain!

"Yes, I see...good...were there causalties? Good, that would have been a waste. Yes...yes. Excellent job, as usual! Yes. In fact, bring her to bay fifteen. Commander RedBarrow would certainly want to see the sample by himself." he flipped the cellphone off, turned to his leader with a slight smile.

RedBarrow only raised an eyebrow slightly, awaiting an explanation.

Hartcourt looked mildly satisfied as he did so without prompting. "Commander, 'when one speaks of the devil, here he comes' rings ever more true. The White Guns have returned with a very nice surprise for us."

"Is it the sample?" Harreta asked, her tone possessed of genuine eagerness.

"We shall see as soon as we disembark at Bay Fifteen."

The maglev silently continued on its way, bearing its three important occupant in its disinterested fashion efficiently. Bays passed, as well as tunnels and glimpses of laboratories, experimentation rooms and passing White Arms scientists and soldiers. Its speed was impressive - nearly twice the speed of a common metro vehicule. In no time they were at their intended destination. The field stabilized at the pre-computed point, and without noise or jerk it stopped.

As Joshua disembarked, he couldn't help but notice the people occupying the bay. There were the four guards who had to be the replacements for the armed escort, but four others were present as well.

There was Jacob, looking his confident, pleased self, dressed in his White Arms uniform denoting his rank as captain and leader of the White Guns. The two men behind him were two of this very special unit. Although they were dressed in casual clothing - having just returned from the previous mission - and that their faces were marked in different places, they had a look of death about them, cold eyes which pierced the soul. They were White Guns, the very best soldiers the organization could offer.

And between them, her hands bound behind her back, struggling with no small might, was a athletically built, blue-haired woman, dressed in ordinary civilain clothes. Jacob shot her a smiling look - which returned a defiant glare - then indicated the prisoner and Commander Joshua.

"Commander" he said with no small relish "May I present you Blair Dame. Blair Dame, Commander RedBarrow."

RedBarrow smiled at the prisoner. "Welcome to White Arms, Miss Dame. Please enjoy your stay.

Not that she would like it, but he was feeling in a very good mood all of a sudden. The project could finally go under way. A project which would change the face of the world, if all went well. And Joshua B. RedBarrow would make sure it did.

This was a day White Arms would soon remember. And later, the Earth will remember it as well.

Three days later...

Major William Guile had many talents, not surprising if one counted on the fact he'd been having done time in the Green Berets, Black Berets and SEALs. They had been hard-working but happy years for him. Along with his old friend Charlie Nash, he'd become one of the very best of the United States Special Forces, and the two men had been much sought after by Special Forces veterans who had been confined to desk jobs, searching for the kind of people who could face and do the impossible for their country.

He had then met his future wife during a bar spree in Philadelphia, had married - enduring tease after tease from Charlie and the other Special Forces members - and had had a daughter to constantly boast about. The perfect life for him: action, friendship and love.

And then Charlie had been killed by Bison, and he'd promptly ditched his family and had gone on a single-minded ditch for revenge. The fact that Nash would have vehemently disapproved hadn't even been considered as he'd moved out of his house and into Patterson Base.

Fortunately, this was all behind him now. The only thing that remained were the talents. Including a certainly sharp sense of intuition. And as he flew his wing of F16-Falcon fighters over the Albany suburbs, it started to tingle him, at the back of his head, just enough to alert him. He tensed immediately. In the air or on the ground, in missions or street fights, he had learned never to take this signal lightly.

He looked at his radar. Nothing. Strange. He felt something was wrong still. Maybe it was malfunctioning?

"This is Iron Leader to Irons two and three. Does your radar detect anything which might be considered abnormal?"

"No, Major. My radar's all clean." said Three.

"All's clear on my end, sir." added Three a moment later.

Guile coudldn't help but bite his lips in frustration. He supposed it was all an hoax from an overwrought body - he HAD been pushing himself these last few days - but he still couldn't really belive it. The feeling had been accurate many times during highly-dangerous misssions, when he'd been pushing himself far too much and had been exausted. He looked carefully around the air, looking at the suburban city and fields underneath, to the clouds which covered the skies, hiding the sun.

Hiding the sun and something ELSE, he suddenly realized, seeing a dark shadow far overhead, going at speeds that had no relation to wind direction and shift. Very well-camouflaged, however - he wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't been looking for something out of the ordinary very specifically.

"Iron Two, Iron Three." he called over his radio. "Look up at the clouds. Ceiling thirty-eight thousand feet, eight o'clock." He knew the order would appear silly to his men, but he also knew they would look in hopes of seeing anything interesting. Routine patrols, after all, could be really dull.

However, they saw that the order wasn't so silly after all.

"@#%$!" exclaimed Two "What the hell is that?!?"

"It doesn't register in any of our consoles, sir!" said Three, his voice unnerved as well but showing more calm. "Whatever it is, its using a very advanced form of stealth."

The thought had also occurred to Guile. He also knew that there were no scheduled military flights beside his in the area. The thought of an unindentified craft calmly traversing United States Airspace using advanced technology was definitely unpalatable, and called for only one course of action.

"Lets pay that thing a visit!" he decided "Irons Two and Three, maintain your postions on my wing, we're moving in to intercept. Be ready with your AIM-9s just in case we need them.

"Roger that, sir!"

"Affirmative, squadron leader!"

The three planes swiftly climbed towards their target, which did not increase its speed or change its copurse because of them. Perhaps it was already flying at its speed limit, or perhaps it was just unconcerned about them, one couldn't tell. But as it was, the three crafts caught up with the unindentified craft within a few moments, clearing the last cloudy shreds and seeing it under the bright light of the sun. They saw it.

And stared. Even Guile had nothing to say for a moment.

It was like one of their military transports, only nearly twice as big, and covered with ceramic-looking armor, it seemed like a fair cross with a space shuttle. It did not appear armed, but one couldn't be sure. Some things were certain, however: it wasn't of any american design - although it resembled some - and it was navigating in the middle of American airspace without any permission and without a care in the world. Guile immediately switched on his radio, choosing an hailing frequency.

"This is Iron Squadron of New Edgar Base. You are violating American airspace. State your name, nature and business. Over." it sounded a bit lame, but at least the hail got his idea acros, or so Guile hope.

There was no response to his hail. Nor to the others he sent. Feeling more and more agitated, he decided to call in the base to have permission to attack the craft and force it to the ground, for diplomaçy did not appear to be working.

"This is Iron Leader calling New Edgar base control. We are presently chasing a transport-class craft of unidentified origin. It refuses to respond to our hails. Request permission to force the unidentified craft to land."

A crackle of static, and then a serious voice which belonged to a radar tower operator came on. "Iron Leader, we confirm your transmission. Stand by while we analyse the situation. We will advise you shortly."

"Roger that, control." not exactly the kind of answer he wanted, but it was rather expected. He settled in for the wait, inspecting the craft in fron of him carefully so that it could all be included in his report.

That craft was something, that much was certain. Huge but sleek, it seemed to show few signs of wear. More impressive and unusual was the great belnd of aircraft technology which was contained in it. Having had some engineering traning in the Special Forces, he recognize most of the technology was American, but there were subtle signs which hinted at other countries: Canada, Britain, France, even Germany and Japan. To construct this must have cost a large bundle, and to acquire such level of technology, it meant that a country must have...

Static on his radio brought him out of his examination, and he stiffened when he heard the voice of General Meridan speaking, his voice cold and full of authority. "Major Guile, you are ordered to come back to base this instant. That is a direct order."

Guile was astounded by what he was hearing. "Sir, I'm not sure I copied that. The craft in front of us..."

"...is NONE of your business, soldier!" was the arch reply "You have been given your orders. Carry them out or you will be relived of your command!"

Enraged by the callous threat, Guile opened his mouth to angrily object, but images of Francine and young, bubbly Kathleen came to his mind. He had just been forgiven for his quest for vengeance by these two, and had no wish to create any more problems for them. Thus, reluctantly, he complied with his orders. But that didn't mean he was forgetting about the incident. That craft was bad news, he just knew it.

"All right boys, we bring the planes home." he radioed "I know you want to get to the bottom of this, but we've got our orders. Lets go."

As he turned his plane around, he cast one last look at the huge, strange unidentified craft, which was continuing on its way as if it had never been tailed.

"Don't look so smug, buddy." he muttered "I haven't finished with you by a long shot.

It seemed it was time to bring in his other contacts - those which had nothing to do with the military.

William Guile did not like mysteries. And he vowed that he would get to the bottom of this new one.

Two days later...

"Might I say, Vega, that you look extremely happy for one who'll have a child running around himself for the next two weeks?"

The question Everick asked was mild, serious and rather blandly posed, but his tone held a certain hint of curiosity and amusement, for indeed the changes which had come over Vega were worthy of note. Not unpleasant by far, but very curious.

When Everick had come to give Dessara back to Vega after a week of relaxation he had taken for the little girl, the Spanish Assassin had had a warm welcome for both the child and the psychic, giving her a candy and allowing her to go play outside in his luxurious garden. As for with Everick himself, he had been highly jovial, barely restraining himself from slapping the Shadow Walker on the back, and inviting him for a drink of some excellent brandy he'd just purchased. Curious despite himself, and respecting Vega enough as a Lord not to read the man's mind outright, he had accepted, and soon had found himself in a comfortable chair in the villa's reading room, being attended by servants.

The brandy was indeed excellent, one of the best he'd ever tasted, but while it inwardly pleased his mood, it didn't change a thing about him being curious about the whole act the other, younger assassin was putting up.

Vega looked up with a smile which seemed almost too cheerful, so full and calm it was. Everick was used to seeing caution, lust or rage in it, but it was showing only the plainest signs of complete contentment. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Are you telling me its showing that much, amigo?" he asked easily, pouring himself some more drink.

The tall man, sporting comfortable clothes in his usual uniform night black, shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Yes, it is plain to see. Thus I am curious. We two aren't in fields which bring this amount of joy very often. So I am simply asking to sate a need for precision."

Vega gestured a bit expansively. "Amigo, if you had wanted it so badly, why ask it? All you had to do was scan. I assure you, I wouldn't have been offended by it."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But I always prefer to deal with people I respect in all fairness. And that means not to use my powers to pry on them." he paused "Besides, my friend, I have always thought something seen and explained directly is always far better than a scan, don't you agree?"

A fierce, joyous nod. "As always amigo, you're wise. Yes, there's nothing better than that, make no mistake." his eyes acquired a gleeful air. "Do you want to see why I'm so glad directly, Everick?"

The tall man hesitated. Although he respected Vega's talents for fighting, stealth and quick assassinations, he had never liked most of the Spanish's hobbies, which he most often than not found exceedingly violent. Although no slacker himself when it came to violence he had no choice but to visit upon others, he did not feel he had to find his pleasure in inflicting pain. His own hobbies were more relaxed, and included reading and model building, not hunting game or watching people beat the tar out of each other. But he had asked, and it was only fair that he aquiesced to the question. So, slowly, he nodded.

Vega nearly jumped up from his seat, downing his drink in one gulp. "Perfecto! Lets go see my new toy, amigo!"

Everick liked the prospect even less at that sentence, but he followed nonetheless.

Down they went, following stairs that went deep in the ground, through a superbly concealed trapdoor set in a room which was arranged as off-limits to all the servants - and they followed these edicts very well, knowing that those who crossed 'master Vega' rarely lived to tell the tale.

Everick had once faced Vega many years ago when they had been intent on the same target for diffrent reasons. The Spanish had attacked him and he had responded. Although he had won easily, he had found the young man very swift and agile and cunning. Thus, he had spared him and let him have the target. It had been the start of their long-lasting, twisted friendship.

And so he knew that whatever he would see down there, he wouldn't like that much.

They came upon a large, locked door of metal. Vega fumbled in his pockets while cackling happily, whistling part of a tune he did not recognize. It was a rather unsettling sight, and he found himself glad when he finally unlocked and opened the door so that he could see what was inside.

He regretted his curiousity immediately when he saw it.

A rather large room it was, of grey brick walls. On one side there were two tables - one holding different instruments designed to deal the maximum of pain without doing to much damage. The other was larger, extremely solid, with metallic straps designed to hold even the strongest possible individual. A torture chamber, designed by someone who liked pain.

But what retained the Shadow Walker's attention was the figure which was chained to the far wall. A figure who was definitely female, with raw wrists and ankles, wearing a ripped, open blue costume which showed a very beautiful feminine body, but also marks which marred it. The person, who had long, damp brown hair, lifted her head as they entered, fixing them with a look which was part fear and part defiance.

He wasn't surprised when he recognized the face. Few females he had ever met, after all, had ever been as powerful as that particualr one.

"Chunli." he said very stonily, although inside of him, deeply hidden in the recesses of his soul, he was shaking his head in disgust.

"Si, amigo, si!" said Vega enthusiastically, walking to his captive and holding her face up by the hair, gratified when a whimper of pain came out of her mouth. "I've been waiting to give that bitch exactly what she deserves, and I intend to take my time giving it." he let go of her, and she glared at him.With a casual smile, he slapped her face hard.

Everick had never been the gentlest fellow. If he had been ordered so by one he considered his lord, he would have easily pulled the woman through this and worse. But it would have been for business, because of an order. He had never hurt for the pure, unaldurated pleasure of it since that day, many years ago, a day he desperately wanted to forget yet could not. A day when Another, gentler Everick had given his place to the Shadow Walker.

He felt disgusted by the scene. But he did not show it. Even when Vega forced the woman to kiss him, he didn't.

It was like seeing himself when he had been young. But even then, he hadn't enjoyed it. Even though his father wanted him to, he hadn't enjoyed it.

"Enough of this foolishness." he said coldly "I have business to attend. My curiousity is now sated. Come." and he left the room with the air of a man who was bored instead of reliving a terrible day. Vega locked the door and hurried after him, seemingly still happy about the prize he now had. He could understand. It was quite a prize.

He must have put her through hell, however. And that was something he simply couldn't wish upon someone with such spirit, such strength.

On the spot, then and there, the Shadow Walker, one of the world's most powerful and ressourceful assassin, decided upon a course of action which would have stunned those who knew him for the cold, heartless man he tried so hard to look. The fighter Chunli deserved better than this treatment. She was strong. Stronger than Vega.. He would not let even his friend treat her like an animal.

It wasn't his way.

And so, decidedly, he started to devise a way to help the Strongest Woman in the World - heh, what a title - escape the Spanish Assassin.